


Panettone, Wine and Imaginary Fireplaces

by meglioseoravai



Category: VIXX, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Christmas Smut, Established Relationship, Fireplaces, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Shameless Smut, Smut, Top Kim Namjoon | RM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 14:27:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17225744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meglioseoravai/pseuds/meglioseoravai
Summary: All Jimin wants for Christmas is romantic sex in front of a fireplace.Of course, it gets more complicated than this.





	Panettone, Wine and Imaginary Fireplaces

**Author's Note:**

> This was born because Christmas inspires me shameless smut and friendly bickering.  
> Enjoy!

Is there something better than a Christmas tree, a cozy blanket and a cup of hot chocolate? Probably not, as Christmas is Jimin’s favorite time of the year and he lives for his apartment to finally be decorated with scented candles, warm lights, and leaf and berry garlands. If it was for him, he would start the Christmas tree immediately after Halloween. If he were alone. Pity he’s not. Or well, it’s not a pity because Namjoon is a blessing on rainy days, but with him in his life, Jimin has to be careful about letting out his crazy, Christmas-obsessed self.

So he waits patiently for after Thanksgiving to take out their plastic, little and ruffled tree and the three boxes of decorations. Namjoon doesn't help, not because he doesn't want to but because Jimin doesn’t trust him anywhere near anything that could break. So, everything. Like the precious angel tree topper his aunt had given him when he was a child or those DIY red balls he made following a tutorial on Pinterest. No, Namjoon, sorry babe but step away slowly. Further away. More. More. Ok, there is fine. Sit. You can’t do anything from there but look? Yeah, that’s the purpose. It’s for the preservation of the Christmas spirit. Deal with it. You can choose the Christmas songs to play while I decorate if you want. Just not Mariah Carey, ok? Good boy. 

Jimin cuddles every night with his favorite blanket, in his favorite reindeer onesie that he thinks it’s cute but his friends say it kills any kind of sexual vibe in a range of twenty miles. But who cares? Namjoon would inevitably reach out for him on their couch, tired from work, a shadow of a beard on the chin, just to wrap Jimin in a back hug and pull him close to his chest. Pajamas or not, they are in too an advanced stage of their relationship to care about what the other is wearing. Of course, there are still special occasions, but nine times out of ten Namjoon wouldn’t care about his pajamas before seducing him and fucking him on that same couch. Take that, you haters.

Tonight is like any other night. Jimin is not drinking hot chocolate because he ate two cinnamon rolls after dinner. He has a spicy ginger tea instead, just to help his digestive system. Namjoon finishes work late and stumbles through the entrance door around nine. He barely takes off coat and shoes before he’s all over Jimin, trying to creep his freezing hands inside the onesie to warm them up. Jimin doesn’t push him away, he looks so tired, so he suffers in silence and covers the man with half of the blanket.

They don’t talk. Jimin checks his phone, Namjoon is breathing so deeply he’s probably sleeping half-seated but then he actually talks. Not with something Jimin wants to hear, though.

“I think we should go to Jin’s party,” he murmurs against his neck. Jimin shivers and frowns at the same time.

“What?! Why?” he asks. “I thought we were going to spend Christmas by ourselves for once.”

He senses a bit of hesitation, then the man answers:

“I might have told him that your parents are in Korea till Seollal and that we're not going to Houston since we already have been there for Thanksgiving.”

Jimin groans.

“Why did you tell him??”

“He asked!” Namjoon exclaims back.

Aw, shit.

“So he invited us.”

“Yes,” the man answers, leans his head on Jimin’s shoulder to ask: “Why you don't want to go?”

“It's not like I don't want to go. I like Jin, I like the guys. It would be fun for sure.” Jimin pouts but doesn’t move from Namjoon’s embrace.

“So?”

He squirms a little bit as Namjoon hugs him closer. He knows him, he knows him well. This is tactic #13, which entails being super cute and cuddly and convincing Jimin to do something with the pure force of love. It works every time. Jimin can’t resist Namjoon if the world depends on it.

“I just like the idea of spending Christmas with you, only with you,” he says, pouting just a little bit more. The other man can’t see it, but it makes him feel better anyway. “Setting up our own family tradition, preparing our own food… I was already picturing a lot of sparkling white wine and hot sex in front of the fireplace.”

“We don't have a fireplace.” Trust Namjoon to only catch  _that_.

“We could use our own imagination,” Jimin grumbles in reply, “or put a fireplace YouTube video on the TV. I'm sure there must be some.”

Namjoon chuckles and his warm breath tickles him.

“Just don't light a fire in the living room, ok?” he says. His arms squeeze him at the waist one more time, then Namjoon stands up and passes a hand through his hair. He just dyed it back to a warm brown and he looks so handsome Jimin can’t help but stare. 

“I'll tell Jin we're not going,” Namjoon sighs, more tired than annoyed from the tense lines on his face. He walks to the coat he threw on the velvet armchair and fishes out his phone.

“So he won't speak with us ever again,” Jimin says with a puff of air. 

“He will get over it. Sooner or later.”

“He will never get over it.” Seokjin, the oldest in their group of friends, doesn’t take parties, lunches or dinners lightly. They’re capital affairs. Everything needs to work perfectly and everyone needs to be well-fed and happy at the end. He’s a private chef so that probably explains it. Jimin and Namjoon don’t really have a choice if they don’t want to hurt him.

“There’s nothing to do,” Jimin gives up. “We have to go.”

His boyfriend glances at him from where he was standing, phone in his hand. He shoots him a grateful smile.

“I didn’t ask, but maybe the party is on the 24th. We can still celebrate just the two of us on the 25th.”

That wouldn’t be too bad. Jimin nods.

“Ask him. If it’s on the 24th I might even forgive you.”

 

**

 

It’s three days after when Namjoon has his answer. It’s the 15th of December and Jimin is checking Amazon for late Christmas gifts for his parents. He has no idea of what to choose between a new set of non-sticking pans or a Kindle for his mom and some golf gadgets for his dad. All he knows is that both choices are too expensive for his current salary but well, Christmas only comes once a year, right? His heart and wallet might cry all they want but his brain prefers to spend money on good quality stuff his parents would really like instead of cheap, useless alternatives. Like mugs. Or vanilla candles. He hates vanilla candles.

He’s scrolling down the offers and his back is hurting and he will ask a massage as soon as Namjoon is done watching X-Files reruns when the man glances down at his phone and groans loudly.  

Jimin looks up at him, expecting some horrible news. What he gets is still bearable, considering his first thought was that something bad happened at work.

“It’s on the 25th,” Namjoon says and Jimin understands immediately.

“Of course,” he deadpans.

“Forgive me anyway?” Namjoon’s smile is twisted in a grimace. He finds his calf under the blanket and gives it a gentle pinch. Jimin exhales slowly, checking in with his patience. Namjoon knows him too well. He enjoys the little affectionate gesture more than he should.

“What’s in the menu?” he asks.

“I knew you would ask.” Namjoon is instantly brightened up. He reads on the phone at a probably novel-long message. “Shrimp scampi with linguine, pancetta-wrapped pork loin, cheesy potatoes on gratin, creamed spinach and Italian panettone with mascarpone cream.” 

Jimin is speechless.

“Holy shit,” he says after a couple of seconds, images of food crossing his mind. He’s suddenly hungry. “It’s like a restaurant menu.”

“It’s already a miracle he’s free for Christmas,” Namjoon adds, now trying to convince him through pity. “He probably works late on Christmas Eve.”

Jimin thinks of the promising menu, he thinks of Namjoon’s stressful last few weeks. He thinks of Seokjin and of the careful way he prepares everything. He wills his shoulders to relax and he lets himself lean on the couch again. He’s not completely happy about the Christmas party but he can do it and be nice about it too. 

“Ok,” he says at the end. “What should we bring?”

Namjoon’s eyes sparkle together with the Christmas lights.

“So you want to go?” he asks, voice still uncertain.

“Do we have any other choice?” Jimin replies but sweetens his words with a smile.

Namjoon reaches out with his long arms and crushes him against his chest, Jimin’s PC kept in an unsafe balance on his lap.

“I knew the menu would convince you…” the man’s amused reply vibrates against Jimin’s ribs. “Anyway, no. We don’t have to bring anything. Only wine, he said. He also gave very pointed suggestions.”

Jimin moves away from his chest just that tiny bit to look at Namjoon’s phone screen, where yeah, Seokjin’s text looks organized and never-ending.

“It’s that a list?” He doesn’t even know why he is surprised.

“Yeah, but we share it with Yoongi and Hoseok.”

“Ah, thank god. And thank god you’re rich. I wouldn’t have the money to buy all these by myself.”

“I’m not rich.” Namjoon’s finger pokes him on a temple.

“You’re not poor either.”

“Yoongi is richer than me.”

Jimin scoffs and squirms away from the too tight hug.

“That’s because he lives a life of seclusion. He wouldn’t see the light of day if it wasn’t for Hoseok.”

Jimin still blesses the day the two of them met. Things went by like this: Yoongi works with Namjoon at Red Hill Records and he is a perfectionist workaholic. If it depended on him, he would stay in the company 24/7, flashing out new ideas and composing new things just as easily as Jimin eats his cornflakes in the morning. It would be fine too, if Yoongi didn't inevitably drag Namjoon with him, making him work late every single day. Jimin hated it and almost hated Yoongi, too.

Enters Hoseok, bright, energetic rising star in Jimin’s ballet company. Korean, handsome, talented and such a lovable person Jimin bet on him good and organized hangouts night after night and made Namjoon drag his moping coworker over. That small, dark pool of hatred and misanthropy called Min Yoongi was drawn to Hoseok like a moth to a flame. Surprisingly, Hoseok thought Yoongi was cool and sexy with his vampire-like aura. Miracles happen. Opposites attract. Whatever. The two hit the sack after one month of forced - but not too much - interaction and never separated since. Pointless to say, all Yoongi needed was a bit of balance in his work-driven life. Hoseok provided that. In exchange, Hoseok got a willing subject for his overflowing love. Namjoon finally started to come back from work at decent hours and everyone was happy. The end.

“So who else is gonna be there?” Jimin asks.

“Yoongi and Hoseok, as I said. Taehyung with his new girlfriend, Jungkook and Amanda…”

“I hate Amanda,” he interrupts with a grumble.

Namjoon pats him on the head.

“I know, I know. And Ken.”

That catches his attention. Jimin sits straight, PC and gifts forgotten.

“Ken?? That Ken? Seokjin can’t stop talking about the new boyfriend  _Ken_?”

Namjoon smiles like a tiger would in front of prey. Jimin sometimes forgets the man likes his gossip, too.

“That Ken,” he repeats, just to let that sink in.

Jimin is suddenly taken by glee. He slaps his hands together in enthusiasm and almost makes his Dell fall on the ground.

“Holy shit! I really need to be there, then! I need to make sure he’s not an asshole like the last one!”

“I’m sure he’s not.” Namjoon frowns, memory probably replaying the last time he saw Seokjin’s ex.

There are not many things that can make Namjoon get really _really_ angry, Jimin knows, but the asshole managed it. In short, Seokjin got cheated over by the asshole. Seokjin found out and broke up with the asshole. The asshole tried to stop Seokjin from leaving their shared apartment by grasping and hurting Seokjin’s wrist. Namjoon, who was there for moral support, punched the asshole on the face. A couple of times. Jimin tended to his bruised knuckles that night when he came back and silently thought his boyfriend was really the best. Gentle and caring but also strong and tough when need arose. The best.

“Yeah, because it would be difficult to,” Jimin points out, but doesn’t dwell on it too much. He doesn’t want to upset his boyfriend by talking about the asshole again. “Anyway, that’s it?”

Namjoon shrugs.

“Ken is bringing a couple of friends.”

Jimin grins. 

“Ooh, no wonder the menu is so fancy. And all the wine, too,” he says. Seokjin is aiming to impress.

“Yep,” the other man nods, then asks: “So should I tell him we’re going to be there?”

“Tell him, tell him.”

Jimin goes back to his Amazon shopping cart thinking the conversation is over but raises his head again as Namjoon clears his throat beside him.

“But…” Namjoon starts, “are we still going to have hot, drunk sex in front of the fireplace?”

He looks at him with such a hopeful expression Jimin can’t say no. Not that he wants to. So he chuckles. Oh, the nerve of this man. He leans over, PC always an obstacle in between, and gives a wet, loud kiss on his cheek.

“You have to let me digest first,” he murmurs against his skin, “But buy a couple more bottles for us, how about that?”

 

**

 

The day arrives, it’s finally Christmas. There are presents under the trees that they will open later tonight. The sky is white and heavy with snow, or so the forecast says. Jimin is so happy he could burst. The idea of spending lunch and afternoon with his friends is suddenly not so bad and he walks in little hops all over their flat as he waits for Namjoon to finally be done. While Jimin opted for his favorite ugly Christmas sweater with reindeers and little Santa Claus, Namjoon chose one of his gorgeous suits. He will probably look too overdressed but Jimin has no heart to tell him and just lets the man wears whatever he wants. He also enjoys the view, so for him it’s a win-win situation.

“Namjoon! What are you doing?” he exclaims as he completes the fourth hopping round of the apartment. He can’t contain himself. Namjoon comes out of their bedroom, looking hot as fuck even as he has unpaired socks and the ties seems like it’s going to strangle him.

“I never know how to do this,” the man mumbles, helplessly walking over to him with two hands full of the necktie.

“You silly thing,” Jimin murmurs with a smile, heart melting at the natural cuteness. “Let me.”

He takes hold of the offending object and, in a couple of seconds, he has a Four In Hand Knot. Namjoon pecks him on the lips.

“Thank you, babe.”

“Uhm,” Jimin hums in reply, so pleased with himself. Now that Namjoon is finally ready, he sprints to the door to put on shoes and coat. From the living room, his boyfriend’s voice reaches him. 

“I need to take a couple of things, how about you start the car in the meantime?”

Jimin turns, coat stuck in one sleeve, mouth open in surprise.

“You’ll let me drive?”

The 2010 SLR McLaren Mercedes is Namjoon’s most precious belonging, and also his second baby after Jimin. Jimin has driven it a total amount of three times since they have been together. And they have been together forever, so three times is really not that great of a number. Still, Jimin never insists, mostly because he’s scared shitless of doing something to it. God forgive him if he scratches the paint because Namjoon wouldn’t.

“It’s Christmas, isn’t it?” Namjoon sends him a smile framed by dimples.

Jimin doesn’t need to be told twice. A little while later, he’s waiting for his boyfriend under the windows of their apartment, motor rumbling softly under his hands. When Namjoon arrives and sinks in the passenger seat, his mood is touching the stars.

“You look hot as fuck,” he says as soon as the other man closes the door. He does, in his grey lounge suit and necktie.

“It was kind of my intent,” the man replies, looking down in light embarrassment. Jimin compliments him every day of their lives and Namjoon still gets pink at the cheeks and all shy. Adorable. 

“Everyone is gonna stare at you. You handsome man. You wanna make me jealous?” he doesn’t relent. He likes the pleased, little smile he gets back, even if his words made Namjoon blush all up to his ears.

They arrive at Seokjin’s high-end apartment building in less than half an hour. Jimin does the best parallel parking he has ever seen, so smooth and classy, and leaves the Mercedes with pride and only a little tear of regret. No scratches on the paint today. Now he just has to wait for their twenty years anniversary or something like that to drive it again. 

Namjoon takes his hand as they walk up to the entrance hall, and brings the bag with the bottles of wine. They announce themselves to the concierge and soon enough they’re in front of Seokjin’s apartment.

It’s Hoseok who opens the door, though.

“Oh, here they are! The golden couple, finally.” He lets them in with a grand gesture of the arm, and Jimin almost gets blinded by his brilliant smile. He only has the time to appreciate another wonderful ugly Christmas with a tree, balls and a pervert combination of the two, when the noise hits him.

From the living room, where Hoseok leads them, there’s Mariah Carey, a chorus of off-key voices and people arguing. Jimin and Namjoon enter the wide, open space already dazed, but then their senses are overcharged with the Christmas lights and the decoration taking up all the furniture like poison ivy. The final effect is not tasteless, it’s just a lot to take in.

There’s a lot of people sitting or mingling around the couches and armchairs. Jimin recognizes most of them.

“You’re late,” Jungkook pipes in from where he’s perched on the sofa armrest.

“Thanks, we know. Namjoon took a long time dressing up,” Jimin replies. He takes off his coat and hands it to Hoseok, who apparently is playing host while the real host is busy in the kitchen.

Jungkook nods at Namjoon’s suit and looks impressed.

“That suit is probably half of my monthly salary.”

“Only the best for Jin’s party” is Namjoon’s smooth answer.

Jungkook stands up.

“So…” he starts, then points at the circle of people scattered in the room. “A round of presentations.”

He walks in front of a well-known couple, knee to knee in a too small armchair. Yoongi is small, but he’s not that small to fit in together with Hoseok, who has just gone back to sit next to him. They look happy, all snuggled in with a twin set of bleached blond hair.

“Here we have Hoseok and Yoongi,” Jungkook says with a gesture of his hand. Yoongi looks up from a drink he was nursing. He barely glances at them, before he addresses Jungkook:

“Why are you starting with us? They know us already.”

Jungkook just waves him off.

“It’s a clockwise round, hyung. You just happen to be sitting here,” he replies. Most of them are Korean, they all talk in English, and yet Jungkook insists on calling people with honorifics. Weird, since they all have been born and raised in the US. Jimin thinks he does it to overcompensate with his daily teasing.

“Hi again, guys,” Hoseok smiles.

Next in line, there’s someone Jimin really doesn’t like. And he tried. He tried many many times but their personalities just don’t match. Jungkook points at a half-empty couch, where a girl with beads in her hair and feather earrings is sitting.

“So, here we have fiancé, Amanda.”

“Amanda…” Jimin repeats with a strained smile. Namjoon pinches his arm and murmurs in his ear:

“Be nice.”

“I am being nice,” Jimin murmurs back, hiding his words in the large stretch of his lips. He thanks Mariah Carey that no one but Namjoon hears him.

“Oh, Jimin! Namjoon! It’s always so nice seeing you!” Amanda does little jumps on the sofa, as she can’t refrain from showing her overwhelming happiness. The twenty or so metal bracelets she has on both wrists jingle with her movement. “I was just telling the others I have the horoscopes for 2019 ready, for all of you!”

Just a little bit less of self-constraint and Jimin would have groaned. He really really doesn’t like Amanda, ok? And it’s not because he’s jealous of his best friend like everyone seems to think. That doesn’t have anything to do with it. No, he just doesn’t like Amanda. There’s something about her that grates on his nerves. He can’t decide if it’s her hippie-retro style, which looks so fake and rehearsed it takes away all the soul of the hippie movement, or if it’s because Jungkook is so madly in love with her he doesn’t realize he’s super whipped and now only listens to her and only spends time with her and and… _whatever_.

Namjoon, Seokjin and even Taehyung tried telling him he’s exaggerating. Just give her a chance, they say, and you’ll see she’s actually a nice, genuine person. They have given up after almost two years, though, and just let Jimin seethe in this one-sided rivalry slash hate of his. One-sided because nor Jungkook nor Amanda have any idea, of course. For some kind of reason, Amanda seems to like him the best in their group of friends. The irony.

“Wow, that’s great!” Namjoon - thank god - takes control of the conversation. He even sounds enthusiastic.

“She spent all yesterday preparing them,” Jungkook adds from the side, a proud stance of the body. Namjoon smiles politely. After a nudge to his side, Jimin does too.

“I look forward to mine, then.”

After that, they’re brought away to the next couple. Jungkook is still making the presentations.

“Here we have Taehyung and Sam.”

Next to Taehyung, there’s a strawberry blond girl, with giant glasses and a little gap between the two upper, frontal teeth. She looks shy and cute in her grey cardigan. Side by side with Taehyung, though, they are like two different species. Taehyung is… how to say… _extravagant_ in the way he dresses. He’s an interior designer if that can explain it. Today he’s all in white, with a big fur coat on his shoulders and a pair of lensless, zebra print glasses. How did the two get together, that’s a good question.

Namjoon is the first one to shake her hand, then Jimin.

“Sam, nice to meet you.”

“How are you, Sam?”

“It’s nice to spend Christmas together with Taehyung’s friends.” She smiles with her lips and her eyes shine as they land on Taehyung. The man beams brightly at her in return.

“Your family lives far?” Jimin asks.

“In Wisconsin.”

Well, yeah, that’s far.

“Don’t worry. You’ll have fun here. And Jin’s a great chef.”

Jungkook, who has been waiting on a side, steps in at that moment and brings them over to the final little group of people, two sitting, one standing with his arms over the chest.

“And here we have Ken, Taekwoon, and Wonshik. Taekwoon and Wonshik just married at the beginning of the month.”

Jimin’s attention concentrates one second more than necessary on Ken, then he graciously says:

“Wow, congratulation!”

The first impression is that, well, the guy is handsome. Handsome and tall. All three of them are, judging by the way their long legs go over the couch. Taekwoon, the one standing, easily reaches Namjoon’s height. Surrounded by all of them plus Jungkook, Jimin feels like the tiny cub of the pride, the one that still has to grow and will never have a black mane.

Anyway, Ken looks like a TV star, with that long, fine nose, the square shoulders, and contagious smile. Just by look alone, he’s not bad, not bad at all.

“Thank you,” Wonshik interrupts his thoughts, glancing with a little shy laugh to his husband. “It still doesn’t seem real.”

“They work in music too, Namjoon hyung,” Jungkook says and that surely picks the man’s interest.

“Really? Then we need to chat, later,” he replies. “I thought I’ve seen you somewhere before. What do you do?”

“I’m a producer. Taekwoon is a singer.”

They all shake hands, with promises of talking during lunch, and when it’s Jimin’s turn to shake Ken’s bigger palm, he says:

“Ken! Seokjin’s new boyfriend, right?”

Ken’s megawatt smile hits him like a train.

“Here I am! I’m so happy I’m finally meeting you! Jin talks constantly of all of you.”

Jimin is ready to answer, mouth hanging open when from the kitchen Seokjin finally makes his appearance. Dressed in a warm-looking white sweater, jeans and a golden and red apron, he incarnates the spirit of a family Christmas. Hands at the waist, he exclaims:

“Lunch is ready!”

 

**

 

Everyone is so hungry it takes less than five minutes to move to the dining room and figure out the seats. Seokjin stands up at the head of the long, well-decorated table to oversee as the first few bottles of sparkling wine are opened. Once everyone has filled their own glass, he raises his in the air.

“So, I would like to start this special lunch with a toast,” the man says, “Thank you, everyone, for coming to my party. Merry Christmas!”

They cheer together, clinking their glasses with each other, Taehyung almost breaking his in enthusiasm.

“Yay!”

“Cheers!”

Jimin makes a point to toast with everyone, even with Amanda, then takes a sip.

“Good wine,” he murmurs, turning to look at Namjoon from under his eyelashes. Namjoon winks at him in reply. That’s one of the many they have brought, and Jimin knows nothing of wine but can taste it when something is expensive as fuck. He also paid half of it, so he knows really well how much it was.

The table animates with chatter and the crystalline sound of cutlery, Christmas songs diffused as gentle background music in the air. Jimin fills his plate. At the same time, he addresses Ken, the new boyfriend, sitting on his right as destiny wanted. It will make the interrogation easier. 

“So, Ken,” he starts, fork twisting and twisting around the linguine. “Jin told us you work in a modeling agency?”

Jin has not - in fact - told Jimin anything. All he knows it’s from a deep research on every social media he could find. LinkedIn was useful for something other than spam emails, for once.

“Oh yeah.” The man nods with his head. “I’ve just started, actually.”

Yeah, LinkedIn said so, too.

“As a model?” Jimin inquiries then takes a mouthful of food. He’s starving.

Ken looks placid and innocent as he picks apart a shrimp scampi. He answers:

“An underwear model, yes.”

Jimin almost splatters everything on Yoongi’s face in front of him. Instead, he only coughs and coughs, Namjoon gently patting his back to help him breathe again.

LinkedIn had not been so precise, after all.

“Wow, well. Lucky Jin!” he laughs as soon as he can speak again. He really believes so. It is clear even with all his clothes on that Ken must have a statuesque body, chiseled from Carrara marble like the David of Michelangelo. Jimin would eye him more, and more intensely if he was not practically married already and faithful to the core. And of course, if the guy wasn’t Jin’s last conquest. Ah, Jin! You sly old dog. Jimin is so proud of you.

“Oh no! I’m the lucky one!” Ken replies with a large smile of his own. “Not only he’s smart and handsome, but he also cooks like a god. I have to be careful with my diet around him or I’ll lose my job.”

“Yeah, it must be hard to be thin and date Seokjin. He puts all his feelings and frustrations in his cooking,” Namjoon smoothly joins the conversation. And he surely knows as the two of them used to be roommates in college. What a pair they made, Jimin remembers with a mix of fondness and amusement. Seokjin closed in their old kitchen cooking all day, Namjoon curved on his books, studying like a compulsive obsessive and only surviving thanks to the constant supply of food. His hair and clothes smelled of fry onion and eggs but he wouldn’t notice, too used to it.

“And what do you do, Jimin?” Ken’s voice interrupts his thoughts.

Jimin glances at him and notices Wonshik and Taekwoon also paying attention.

“I work with Hoseok, the guy over there,” he points helpfully at him because there are many new faces around for them and maybe they forgot names.

Hoseok is feeding Yoongi with his hands as everyone looks at him, a piece of shrimp in his fingers. It speaks a lot of how the couple is doing that Yoongi doesn’t even blink and silently takes the offered food. It would be cute if there wasn’t a glimpse of tongue licking at Hoseok’s fingers. Ew, so gross.

“We are in a ballet company. That’s why I’m so poor,” he continues. Then he smirks, feeling a bit playful. “Thank god I found Namjoon, my sugar daddy.”

Namjoon scoffs and takes a long sip of his wine.

“I’m not your sugar daddy.”

“Are you richer than me?”

“Yes?” the man says against the brim of the glass. Jimin places a hand on his thigh.

“Do you buy me stuff?”

“Yes?”

“Are we together?”

Now Namjoon rolls his eyes, his lips still curving up in exasperated amusement.

“Yes.”

Jimin lightly slaps his thigh in victory.

“So you’re my sugar daddy.”

“I don’t think it works like this. And you’re scaring Ken.” Namjoon points at the man with his glass. Ken, though, brushes his worries off with one hand.

“Ah, I’m not that easily scared.” And laughs.

Maybe it’s for the sound, maybe it’s because he heard his name, but Seokjin suddenly turns on them from his position at the head of the table, from where he has been busy being the perfect host and chatting with everyone.

“What are you doing to Ken?”

“Nothing at all,” Jimin answers but he’s not convincing enough, apparently, because Jin narrows his eyes on him.

“You two,” he says, “you smelly sneaky rabbits. Let my boyfriend be.”

“Smelly sneaky rabbits?” Wonshik asks in a low voice, probably not meant to be heard, as Jimin laughs at Jin’s ridiculousness.

“Jin likes making up insults,” Namjoon explains, “And giving people pet names.”

“Oh, Don’t I know it,” Ken hums, then sends a random, hot look to Jin, who instantly blushes like a virgin. What kind of euphemisms and pet names are they really talking about, Jimin wonders? Because, well, they could roast an entire chicken with the heat in that gaze.

Ken clears his throat, breaks the stare and folds the napkin on his lap. Their half of the table is almost silent, the other half obvious to the sudden, unexplained awkwardness. Ken suddenly laughs.

“Taekwoon’s fans call him a hamster,” he says, like this, out of the blue.

“Ken!” Taekwoon, affronted, shouts from the corner. It’s the first word he has said since the beginning of lunch.

“What?”

Taekwoon reaches over from his seat behind his husband and smacks him on the neck. From the relaxed, yielding line of Wonshik’s shoulders, it must be a regular dynamic.

“Pretty violent to be a hamster,” Taehyung comments. The commotion has caught the interest of almost all the hosts. Taekwoon must have noticed, too, because he drops back on his seat and almost hides behind the tablecloth.

“Because he’s a wild hamster,” Ken continues, unperturbed. “Wonshik has been trying to tame him but not even marrying him worked.”

Taekwoon looks ready to jump back on him from his dark, murderous expression, but fortunately, Amanda diverts the conversation.

“Wow, you must pretty famous to have fans!” And the man deflates like a broken balloon.

“Not really,” he murmurs with his soft voice. He’s so big, Jimin knows because he towers him by a full head, but he’s now curled up on himself, looking small. He picks at the food in his plate, blushing up for all too different reasons. The pink on his cheeks only worsens and becomes a deep crimson as Wonshik juks out to say: 

“He is getting popular quite fast, even without too much promotion.” He seems so proud with his chin up as he throws a little, warm glance to his husband’s head. “Maybe you know his stage name. It’s Leo.”

Namjoon lets out a sound of interest. He devoured his linguine in two mouthfuls and has been nursing glass after glass of white wine.

“Canvas’ Leo?” he asks, a sudden spark in his eyes. He’s always like this as soon as music is brought up in any conversation. As many nights spent with Namjoon and Yoongi has taught Jimin, the topic could last from now till the end of the world and Namjoon would barely notice.

If possible, Taekwoon becomes even smaller. He looks up at Namjoon for a brief moment before mumbling a simple word:

“Yes.”

Namjoon nods, seeming pleased with himself at having connected the dots.

“I do know you. You have a very interesting vocal range.”

Jimin observes with fascination as both Wonshik and Ken turns with large smiles at Taekwoon, proud. Taekwoon’s shyness leaves the space for a bit of warm contentment. 

“Thank you,” he answers, and Jimin for the first time hears a bit of a singer in his voice. He just wonders, maybe a bit judgmentally, how someone who can’t handle a dozen people’s attention can become a professional singer, but well, that’s not his business, is it? Maybe the shyness is part of the charm.

While he thinks, the conversation goes on and Jimin lets it flow as he picks his last scampi and eats it. The perfume of roasted meat is almost too much for his nostrils as Jin leaves the table and opens the kitchen door to check on the second course.

“Wonshik writes his songs,” Ken is saying.

“That’s really romantic,” he comments, trying to concentrate back on the people around him.

“That’s how we met, actually.” Wonshik shares a private, affectioned smile with his husband, then remembers himself and turns back to address them again. “But now let’s stop talking about us! How did you meet?”

The question is evidently for Namjoon and Jimin since everyone else is already occupied. Taehyung, Jungkook, and Hoseok are deep in a discussion about Game of Thrones. Amanda and Sam are sitting close to each other, sharing murmured words over a bottle of an almost finished wine. Yoongi is eating with precious care, half listening to the conversations around and half wishing he was still sleeping in his bed. Jimin can bet on it.

So Jimin is ready to answer but then Jin comes back in the living room with the pancetta-wrapped pork loin and, of course, they all rejoice together at the obscene view of meat dripping of fat and love. They cheer as Jin cuts abundant slices and the table is almost silent in religious attention as they all receive a generous portion of meat, potatoes, and spinach. In the same time, more, new bottles of red Italian wine are opened, because shame on you if you drink white with meat, you plebeians.

Jimin can’t complain as he drinks and eats and it’s halfway to his second glass of Chianti when he remembers Wonshik’s question. Well, it’s not his fault the food distracted him. And as the quietness at the table is only broken by appreciative moans, he knows he’s not the only one blinded by a good serving of pork.

“Namjoon stalked me in college,” he says, turning to his right to meet Wonshik’s eyes.

Namjoon protests immediately.

“I didn’t stalk you.” He half scowls. In front of him, Taehyung scoffs.

“He did.” And sends him a knowing glance, paired up with a raised eyebrow. “No, seriously. He did. He would ask everyone about Jimin because he wanted to know who _the little angel that caught his heart_ was.” He even air quotes with his hands.

“Namjoon hyung had a weird vibe then,” Jungkook intervenes for the first time. And of course, it’s to annoy Namjoon. “A weirdo vibe. He even wrote a book of sonnets for him.”

“Must have sucked to rhyme Jimin,” Taehyung snickers.

Jungkook laughs out loud.

“You knew about this, too? I just knew he shipped over a special quality of black roses from Turkey for their first anniversary. It must have cost 500 dollars without the shipment.”

“He sounds more romantic than weird,” Sam suddenly says. Jimin agrees.

He puts both hands on Namjoon’s leg and leans over to give him a big, wet kiss on the cheek. Namjoon takes it with initial surprise, frozen in his motions, then moves his head so that the next kiss comes on his mouth. And hell, Jimin maybe kisses him more than necessary but his blood boils and he probably drank too much already because he only gives a damn when Yoongi coughs for the second time, and very loudly too.

“See?” he says, low enough not everyone can hear him between the conversations that are springing back. “500 dollars roses. You’re really a sugar daddy. My sugar daddy.” But he winks and it’s obvious he doesn’t really think so.

“ _Oook_ , that was gross. We are at the table. No smooching please,” Jungkook complains and jokingly shakes his finger at him. 

After that everyone settles in with their food. Jimin exchange some more few words with Ken and his friends - till now the man has not shown any evident red flag, but one never knows. It’s later when they’re all really full and they’re resting five minutes before dessert, wetting their lips with the remaining white wine from the first course, that Taehyung straightens in his chair like he suddenly remembered something.

“Hey!” he says, loud enough Jimin can hear him from the other side of the table. “Namjoon is not the only sugar daddy here.”

“Why are we still talking about this?” Yoongi grumbles in reply. Taehyung circumnavigates his girlfriend Sam to prod him on a shoulder.

“We forgot about you!” he smiles mischievously. “Aren’t you sponsoring the ballet company’s performance? What’s its name...”

“Le Jeune Homme et La Mort,” Yoongi replies in perfect French, pouring Hoseok another glass of wine with dripping nonchalance. “And I’m not the only one. There are six sponsors.”

“Yoongi is not a sugar daddy, he’s a patron,” Hoseok points out as he sips from his glass, and Yoongi seems to like it enough he grins.

“Yes, Taehyung,” he says, “I’m an artistic patron. A philanthropist.”

“But you hate people, hyung,” Jungkook is that kind of person who adds fuel to the fire and enjoys watching things burning down. Yoongi’s reply comes cutting and unforgiving.

“I don’t hate everyone. I stand you, after all.” He doesn’t lose his smirk and even has his eyebrow slowly raise in silent challenge. Jimin stops listening to them at that point, he knows how it will play. The two of them - plus Taehyung, when he feels like it - can last forever with their bickering. They’re like brothers in that, never failing to torment the other for fun. Jimin turns to the other side of the table instead, just in time to hear Seokjin murmur to himself: 

“Why conversations have always to be so awkward when we are all together?”

“I think it’s our natural dynamic,” he answers and would have patted him on a leg if he wasn’t too far and didn’t have to move. He is too full to move. If he moves he throws up, so better to stay still until his stomach can bear for him to stand up and do something more demanding than breathing. “It’s because we’re a group of weird people.”

“I hope we’re not shocking our new friends,” Seokjin glances at Wonshik and Taekwoon, but of course his eyes linger on Ken. He wants to make a good impression, it’s completely understandable. And Jimin sincerely thinks everything has worked out perfectly till then, even if they like to bicker too much.

Amanda does talk for thirty minutes about reiki healing to Sam, who must have been a saint or partially deaf to stand her. Taehyung gets distracted by the background music and sings out aloud to it and doesn’t follow any conversation, Yoongi chooses only to speak to Hoseok, Hoseok can only speak about Game of Thrones. Jungkook is a little shit and doesn’t move his arm from Amanda’s backrest if not to use his knife. Then there’s Namjoon, posed and elegant in his suit and with always a glass of wine in his hand. Jimin would think he’s only drinking if he didn’t personally see food disappearing from his plate. And of course, there’s Jin, spread like thin jam on a toast, trying to do everything at once and with sublime perfection. So yeah, they’re a strange group of people, everyone with their own little quirks and idiosyncrasies, but they feel like family: annoying, pestering but loving and there when you need them. He hopes the feeling translates in some way to Sam, Ken, Wonshik and Taekwoon and that they don’t just come out looking like lunatics and fools.

Wonshik apparently heard Seokjin too, because he’s quick to reassure him.

“Not at all. You’re all very friendly,” he says, “And trust me, our group of friends is just as extra.”

“Especially Ken,” Taekwoon breaks his natural silence to add, soft voice somewhat surprising considering his serious expression. His quiet demeanor makes every word he says so much more important.

“Next time we should all go out together,” Jimin smiles at him because he’s starting to like the guy and he’s pleased to see a rising blush in reply.

 

**

 

They wait a little bit more but, in the end, they have to do it. The dessert, the crowning ending of a professionally prepared, mouth-watering lunch. They all would do without it, truth be told, but they can’t disappoint Seokjin, who spent hours and hours on it.

“I don’t think I can eat more than this,” Taehyung groans, half slouched on the table. “I’m dying, Sam. Call an ambulance.”

The girl pats him on one arm.

“Cover your stomach. And sit straight.” It would come out as an order with everyone else, especially since Taehyung obeys immediately without batting an eyelash, but she says it with a sweet smile on her face and something that sounds like genuine concern in her voice. Maybe, Jimin thinks observing the couple, maybe he was wrong and has judged her too quickly. Perhaps she is exactly what Taehyung needs.

Seokjin chooses that instant to make a dramatic entrance with his panettone, a square tower of hot, fluffy and sweet bread loaf. It smells delicious and with all the love and care Seokjin poured in it, the thing has to taste divine.

“Now, finally! My precious creation!” Jin shows the panettone as Rafiki did with Simba and the panettone now has to rule over them all. He carefully cuts slices, so slow and attentive they all stare like there’s a bomb there and not an Italian dessert.

“So? Who wants it?” he asks and of course, no one dares to say no. Ken stands up and catches him by the waist from behind, keeping still a safe distance from the big, serrated knife.

“Gimme the biggest one,” he coos in his ear, a charming smile on his lips. Jin looks so happy and pleased it’s a miracle he doesn’t give him half of the panettone.

They wait until there’s a plate with the dessert in front of everyone. Jimin barely contains his enthusiasm even though he’s already so full he would like to unbutton his jeans. He takes a huge bite, paired up with the mascarpone cream but… how to say… the result is…

“So?” Jin asks. He’s still standing, holding his hands in a tight grip and glances at every one of them in turn, waiting for a response.

“It’s… delicious,” Taehyung blathers around a mouthful, and just to appear even more convincing he stuffs himself with another bite. He munches and munches like an overgrown hamster. 

“I love it,” Ken says and it’s probably his literal crush on Jin speaking for him. There’s no other way he would look so honest otherwise. Everything Jin makes probably tastes heaven-like to him. The power of real love.

“I can taste the hours of effort,” Sam adds, graceful, with a little nod of the head. “It’s good.”

Seokjin crinkles his nose in a smile and is slowly sitting down when Jungkook shakes his head over the plate.

“Isn’t it a bit…” But he’s immediately shut up by Amanda’s powerful elbow in the ribs. Wow, Amanda. Jimin is almost reconsidering her just for this. Jungkook gasps in pain and can’t go on, but even if he could there’s a table full of people - minus Jin, of course - ready to clasp his mouth shut.

“Hush, you fool!” Yoongi hisses and even Taehyung looks ready to commit murder, and that’s from the most pacifist guy in their group.

“What?” Jin asks, ass still in midair, a confused frown on the forehead. But Yoongi pushes him down on his seat and Jungkook, who’s still gasping for air, mumbles some words to save himself:

“No, no, nothing. Sorry, sorry.”

A collective breath of relief. Jimin eyes the cake, then Jin and almost considers the idea of eating it all by himself to save his friend the pain. He doesn’t want Jin to know. He’s ready to sacrifice himself. Apparently, he’s not the only one with the same line of thought because Hoseok frets with his napkin and asks Jin:

“You’re not eating it?”

Jimin is ready to ask for seconds if he has to. He will make Namjoon take another slice too, if necessary. Thankfully, someone is looking down to them.

“I’ll wait a bit! I want to finish the vin brulé first,” Jin says and stands up again, without pause, tireless. So hard working. Jimin’s heart twist in pain as his friend disappears in the kitchen soon after. He doesn’t have to eat all the panettone, thank god, but they have to find a way to finish it or make it disappear before Jin finds out. It’s better like this. Better for him to believe his creation is so irresistible they can’t help but eat it all.

“What happened to this, really?” Jungkook murmurs because, apparently, he hasn’t learned yet. Amanda looks ready to hit him again, something that Jimin admires of her, but it’s Namjoon who speaks first.

“Just eat,” he says as he’s also patiently washing away the panettone with liters of mascarpone cream and wine.

“Stuff your mouth, Jungkook,” Yoongi reiterates from the other side, just to make things clear. “If you don’t want to die.”

Jungkook hears the threat loud and clear and stops talking entirely. He eats his slice like all of them, silently, head held low in concentration. Nothing from their facial expression has to transpire but happiness and satisfaction. When Seokjin comes back every plate is clean to the last crumb.

“So, how was it?” he asks again. He’s answered with a joyful choir.

“Wonderful!”

“The best!”

“Very good!”

They’re a horrible group of liars, that’s what they are. But better to hide the truth this time, ok? A little white lie that won’t harm anyone. Jin will never find out.

“I’m so happy!” the man exclaims, bright like a sunray. “So, what do you think about moving to the living room? We can watch a movie.” Which is a nice idea, since they all have decided they wouldn’t exchange presents for once - 100 bucks in wine is enough for his crying wallet, thank you - and they are all too sleepy and full for boarding games. So they end up all cuddled up in the two sofas and two armchairs, Jungkook, Amanda, Taehyung and Sam sitting on the red carpet on the floor. They’re the youngest, after all. Let them suffer. Jimin needs the sofa.

In the beginning, there’s not enough space to move, all cramped up he is between Namjoon and Hoseok. Then Namjoon sneaks an arm around his waist and pulls him on his lap, where Jimin settles down peacefully, all snug up on his boyfriend’s chest, warm and comfortable.

“I’ll fall asleep,” he says. The movie hasn’t even started yet. Jungkook and Jin are still discussing if Die Hard is a Christmas movie or not. 

“I think I gained five kilos,” Jimin overhears Wonshik from the other sofa.

“Tomorrow, gym,” Ken replies and god only knows how he can sound so happy talking about working out.

“Tomorrow is closed.”

“Fine,” the man doesn’t relent. He raises his voice to address everyone. “Tomorrow a morning jog! Who’s with me?”

“I could throw up just at the idea of moving,” Taehyung answers from where he’s lying on his girlfriend, white fur coat now turned to cover his torso and belly. “Sam had to bring me bridal style here. She is a strong lady.”

“Or you’re all bones and skin,” Jimin pokes him with a foot.

Finally, Jin and Jungkook reach a conclusion and find a movie to watch. It’s a simple television thing no one has ever seen before, but it’s on Netflix and seems decent enough for them to snooze on it. As the opening credits roll on, Jin still hasn’t found his peace, walking around with a tray of short, shot glasses and liquors.

“Who wants some vin brulé? Some strong liquor to digest?” he murmurs, bending down on them. Jimin takes a glass of Kavalan whiskey even if he doesn’t like the taste of it, Namjoon uncharacteristically takes a mug of hot spiced wine he juggles on one leg. It’s like they exchanged drinks on purpose. Jimin doesn’t know why he chose whiskey but he still sips it as the movie flashes in front of his numb eyes. 

“I’m dizzy, Namjoon,” he complains after a while, in a little, pathetic meowl. 

“Did you drink too much?” Namjoon’s warm breath tickles his ear, arms tighten around him.

“I didn’t think it was possible to get drunk with all I ate.”

The man chuckles quietly and it vibrates against Jimin’s body.

“We drank twenty bottles in twelve people. I think we are all a bit tipsy.”

“Only a bit?” Jimin whispers back, excited but trying not to disturb the others. “Look at Hoseok and Yoongi. They’re all over each other.”

He can feel Namjoon turning his head to check on the other couple occupying their sofa.

“Until all the hands are in sight and clothes are still on I can’t complain,“ he says. Then, in an afterthought: “I never saw Yoongi like this before.”

“It’s super weird.” Kinda horrid, too. Like watching a YouTube video on blackheads removal. You know it’s gross, you know it’s disgusting, but it’s still fascinating enough you can’t look elsewhere. He still groans in mild disgust as the kiss suddenly becomes PG 13. “Oh god, was that tongue?”

From in front of him, Jungkook turns his head on him, the lights of the movie lightening his face.

“Why are you watching them?” he whispers, if a whisper could be loud and abrasive. 

“The movie is boring,” Namjoon answers, making Jimin laugh on top of him.

“They’re just here. What should I do, take my eyes off?” he reiterates. And ok, he could still follow the movie on the 5K screen, but he has never seen any kind of physical affection from Yoongi. It’s like watching a documentary on unicorns’ mating habits, something that you don’t even consider a possibility until there’s suddenly a fantastic beast in front of your eyes, fucking.

“I wish I could. Oh god, someone stop them,” Jungkook moans in despair and finally someone hears them, someone with enough courage and entitlement to scold Yoongi.

“Yoongi! Hoseok! You’re scaring the guests!” Jin calls out from Ken’s tight hug.

“You’re exaggerating,” Yoongi slurs as he draws back from Hoseok. He’s still lucid enough, his tongue gets back in his mouth and stays there. 

“Take a room, hyung,” Jungkook turns his head again just to say. But then he notices the spark of sudden interest in the older man’s eyes and rushes out: “No, don’t even think about it! Just wait for tonight like everyone else here.”

Yoongi shrugs, he couldn’t care less and grasps Hoseok’s wrist in his thin fingers.

“I’ll be too sleepy tonight. Hoseok, let’s go.”

“Are you kidding me?” Jungkook protests but it’s Hoseok’s more calm, mature words that do the trick:

“Come on, babe, don’t be like this,” the man murmurs, lovely curling around his boyfriend. “I’ll make sure you’ll be awake and ready tonight, ok?” And Yoongi surrenders like the whipped man he is. Who could resist the full power of a charming, sexy Hoseok anyway? Not Yoongi, who has lost all real bite since the first day he saw him. 

“I really didn’t need to hear that,” Jungkook still mumbles, moving closer to Amanda, probably for emotional support. Jimin can only agree.

“Can someone please raise the volume?” Taehyung asks aloud and is instantly ignored.

“Aw, I think you’re cute,” Amanda coos, accepting Jungkook’s arms around like her but still looking at Hoseok and Yoongi on the couch. “And according to my readings, your couple will be on fire in 2019.” She claps her hands excitedly. “Maybe with a baby on the way!”

“Amanda, they’re both men,” Jimin says but she only shrugs and cocks her head.

“One can never know,” she smiles. “Adoption exists.”

A sudden, rare sound echoes in the room. Yoongi laughs, a raucous thing from the throat, and when he’s done with it he has a smile dangled on the corner of his lips. He looks at Hoseok in his arms.

“Why adoption? We just need to practice enough.”  

“You horny kitty.” Hoseok jokingly punches him on the arm, an expression so pleased it could generate power.

A loud groan of distress and:

“Can someone please raise the volume?!”

Jin takes pity of Taehyung and silently raises the volume.

 

**

 

They go back to the movie but it doesn’t last. The story is so unoriginal, the characters so boring, it’s already a lot they’re all still sitting down with their heads turned towards the television. Not all of them are awake, though. Taehyung is a snoring, lanky weight wrapped over Sam, who doesn’t seem to mind. Namjoon is also breathing so slow, chest rising and falling under Jimin, that Jimin at one point has to check. The man is not sleeping, he finds out, even if his eyelids are barely open. He’s focusing on the moving figures on the television and meets his eyes when he notices him staring. A little smile and a nod of the head are sent his way as Namjoon interlaces his fingers over Jimin’s stomach.

“This movie is so boring,” Jimin whispers but he’s smiling because it has been a very good day so far.

Namjoon raises his eyebrow at him.

“You prefer to talk about Yoongi and Hoseok’s sex life?”

“Oh, please no,” he chuckles. He had enough of that to last a lifetime. Then he remembers something and puts a hand on Namjoon’s chest as a lever to sit up straight on his lap. “But we can talk about the newest couple out here! Ken, Jin!” he calls, loud enough to be heard over the movie. The two men jolt surprised on the other sofa and whirl their heads to look at him. They were probably almost napping, like everyone else in the room. “How did you two meet?”

The question catches everyone’s attention, aside from Taehyung who’s still snoring with his mouth open. Ken has a toothy smile on and pulls Seokjin closer to his side.

“Oh!” he says, happiness pouring over. “At a striptease!”

Wait, what?

“ _Jiiin_?!” Jimin asks, stupefied, while next to him Yoongi is barely containing his laughers. It’s just that Seokjin is so so so vanilla! And goes to church with his grandma every Sunday and scolds them if they’re not eating enough, wearing enough, resting enough. He’s like the mom of the group, and finding out he met his new boyfriend at a striptease it’s like discovering their mom works as a dominatrix on the weekends.

“Yeah, I was the stripper,” Ken nods and says. Like it’s obvious, guys. Or well, maybe it is when you’re six feet tall and have the body of an Olympic swimmer. Yoongi finally bursts out laughing and holds his belly like it’s painful. Jungkook stares, shook, with a “What?” escaping his lips. He’s the youngest of the group, so for him, it’s probably like finding out Santa doesn’t exist and his mom is a dominatrix on the weekends.

Thankfully enough, Jin steps in and explains.

“I was hired for Taekwoon’s bachelor party. As a private chef.” The man shrugs. A chorus of “ooooh”, like that explains everything - it doesn’t. It really doesn’t. It’s Wonshik who continues, from one of the armchairs: 

“Our friends thought it would be fun to have Ken be the male stripper.”

“I hated it,” Taekwoon’s soft voice pipes in. He has crossed arms over his chest and looks like he’s still moping over the bachelor party. “It was embarrassing.”

Wonshik pats his head.

“That was kind of the point, sweetie.”

But Ken is blind to his friend’s distress, or maybe he rejoices in it because he says:

“I danced to _It’s raining men_ and got a man for me at the end of the night,” he winks at Seokjin,  “such a good catch.”

And they stare long enough in each other’s eyes it gets uncomfortable to watch. Jimin doesn’t want to see his mom making out with a stripper, so he turns back in Namjoon’s embrace.

 

**

 

It’s never-ending. Jimin really thinks this must be what? Three hours since they have started watching the movie? But when he checks his phone it says it’s only 5PM, it’s only been an hour or so. Still, shouldn’t the plot get to the point? Shouldn’t the girl get her love interest, a nice Christmas present and be done with it? He’s always thought television movies are supposed to be sweet and fast, something to watch when you have a craving for a nice and easy plot and you don’t want to use your brain or to cry. This movie is a traitor to its own genre and Jimin swears that if it doesn’t end in less than fifteen minutes he’ll fight Jin for the controller and switch to something more interesting. Is there someone really watching it, anyway? He surreptitiously looks around. He knows Namjoon is more sleeping than awake because he hasn’t moved in half an hour. He can see Jin and Ken murmuring lovingly to each other, Wonshik is sleeping, Taekwoon is watching the movie with relentless concentration. Hoseok has his eyes open but he’s staring at the wall, Yoongi is scrolling Reddit on his phone. The four on the carpet are awake, even Taehyung, and are bickering in little whispers. As usual.

“My ass is falling asleep,” Jungkook is groaning, sitting up, both hands to stroke his lower back.

“Wanna a massage?” Taehyung asks, raising his eyebrows at him.

“From you? God no.”

“Why not?” The man crawls closer. “I could try an ashiatsu massage. You know, those where people walk all over you with their feet.”

“Sounds lovely,” Jungkook deadpans. Taehyung winks - “You just have to call me” - but he’s immediately pushed back on the carpet by a friendly shove.

“Please, stop it,” Jungkook murmurs, leaning over him and poking him on the sides where Taehyung is most ticklish, “I don’t want to make Sam jealous.” 

“Sam?” Taehyung pants between laughers from the floor. “Sam is not the jealous type. Are you, baby?”

Jimin and Jungkook turn to look at the woman at the same time and find her staring, focused and with red cheeks.

“I like to watch,” she licks her lips and mumbles, glasses tilted on the nose, unwavering gaze on Jungkook and Taehyung. She looks like a starving animal in front of a BBQ restaurant, only that the meat in question here are two men, one laying on top of the other. It doesn’t end here, joy oh joy. Jimin observes with morbid fascination as Amanda scoots closer to her and grasps her hands.

“You too? Really?” the woman says and they’re almost touching, sitting with knees folded under and fast breaths. Jungkook and Taehyung forget about the other, how could they not, Taehyung abandoned on the floor. Suddenly having their two girlfriends so close and captivated in each other is way more interesting than their stupid games. And the women get closer and closer, mouths opening in excitement...

“Ooook. I think that’s enough. Where’s the wine? The alcohol?” Yoongi stomps with his feet on the rug, efficiently breaking the moment. Amanda and Sam jump away from each other like scalded cats, while Taehyung leaps over to take the bottle of whiskey and holds it to his heart. Yoongi has to fight with him for it. “Stop it. Give it to me. Give it to me, Kim Taehyung. The four of you had enough for today. Wait to be sober to do anything.”

Yoongi pulls and pulls until he finally gets the bottle. Taehyung falls back on the floor. A defeated man.

“And you were complaining about me and Hoseok,” Yoongi tks and brings away the whiskey.

“No one else here took their tongue out!” Jungkook shouts after him.

Yoongi is already walking away to the kitchen, but his mumble is clear in the living room as he scoffs and says:

“Not yet.”

 

**

 

Jimin must have fallen asleep too, at one point, because he wakes up and the sky is darker outside and there are different people on the TV. He brushes his cheek against Namjoon’s suit, a little part of him happy he didn’t drool all over his boyfriend. He sinks deeper in the other’s body, hiding his face against his neck and breathing in the masculine perfume of pine cologne. He realizes Namjoon must be awake, too. Two hands slip under his sweater and touch him there, in that little trail of skin between his ass and back. The two big palms are hot on his body and trails up and down along the spine. Jimin feels warm and content as the man drops one and two kisses on his temple, on his forehead, and nudges at his face until Jimin raises his head and he can kiss him on the mouth. The kiss is brief, even though sweet like sugar, and when Namjoon lets his lips go, Jimin feels a shiver running up his back.  

“I’m cold,” he whispers, dropping his head back on his boyfriend’s chest.

“Are you?” the low murmur. Namjoon hugs him tighter, almost making his bones crack under the pressure. Jimin hums, at peace with the universe. He barely registers there are voices talking softly or that someone is dying a terrible death on television - _No, Jessica, please, no, don’t leave!_ He inhales in Namjoon’s familiar scent, that scent that reminds him of home and safety, and he doesn’t know at that moment if that makes him more sleepy or hornier. He can’t really decide. He’s also quite tipsy, his mind spinning in lazy circles even if his eyes are closed. However, as Namjoon resumes his long, caresses, Jimin thinks of a fireplace and of those fingers, a bit lower, a bit naughtier. It only takes that, in a span of a couple of seconds, for him to realize he’s indeed horny and he wants it as soon as possible. He slides one careful hand in Namjoon’s hair, fingers combing at the shorter fuzz at the nape. The other hand stays there, pressed against the firm chest, few inches above the hearth. With his eyes almost closed, he moves his face up and mouths at the little square of skin behind the ear. Shameless, cheeky. He knows all the secrets spots. He’ll use all the tricks up his sleeve to get what he wants as fast as he can. 

“You smell so nice,” he murmurs against Namjoon’s neck and feels him shuddering under him.

“Jimin…” a single word of warning.

“Sorry,” but he’s not sorry at all.

“Let’s just wait for the end of the movie, ok?” Namjoon tries.

Jimin mouths at his skin, an open, languid kiss, then hums:

“I hate it.”

The room is whirling in front of him.

“It’s not that bad.”

“I would prefer our fireplace. You know?” Jimin puts enough distance between and Namjoon to meet his gaze. He gives him his most ardent, bedroom eyes he has, those that work better than a magnet. He sees Namjoon swallow, he’s giving up, he knows he is, but another voice interrupts his mounting, successful strategy.

“Since when do you have a fireplace?” Hoseok asks, innocent and pure. Eavesdropping, evidently.

“We don’t. It’s an imaginary fireplace,” Namjoon still answers.

But Jimin is done for the day. He’s been a good boy all along and now he wants to get some nice, horizontal action. Is it too much to ask? He wants to go home and be fucked by his boyfriend, that’s it. A Christmas present. Easy. And stop it with these television Christmas movies, please! He loves Christmas and he really enjoyed spending the day together with his friends, but now it’s time to go on. Home. On the bed. Or the sofa, or the kitchen counter, or any other surface available. He puts on a snarky grin.

“Kim Namjoon is supposed to fu-” A hand covers his mouth just in time. Jimin pffs the rest of the word against it.

Namjoon clears his voice, doesn’t move his hand and says:

“I think it’s time for us to go.” A simple sentence that still seems to put things in motion. Jin overhears them and pauses the movie, Ken startles awake from his post-Christmas lunch slumber. The four kids on the rug straighten up, almost as they were shocked by a buzz of electricity.

“Oh fucking finally,” Yoongi exclaims, stands up and grasps Hoseok’s wrist to pull him up with him. “Us, too. Come on, Hoseok.”

Hoseok bids everyone good night and laughs, half in embarrassment, half in amusement as the other man drags him away. In a few minutes, they’re out of the door. Someone turns a light on, someone stretches their long arms up on the air. Namjoon still has a hand on Jimin’s mouth, maybe he forgot about it or maybe it’s a new kinky game they’re playing. He says their farewells.

“It was nice meeting you guys. Thank you, Seokjin,” he waves with the other hand and brings Jimin up with him to the door. He thanks profusely and says goodbye to everyone. “See you soon.”

“Bye!!”

Jimin has only that little brief moment, when Namjoon is busy putting on his coat, to turn in the living room and address Taehyung, Jungkook, Amanda and Sam. From what he has seen growing in the last few hours, he thinks they will need his words.

“And the four of you!” he slurs, pointing a shaky finger in their general direction. “Remember the SSC!”

“What?” Amanda asks for all of them, a confused frown on her face.

“Safe, sane and consensual,” Jimin replies. Then Namjoon picks him by the collar and pulls him out of the door. He only has the time to say a last “Ok, time to go. Byee!”, before the apartment’s door closes on his face.

 

**

 

If someone asks, Jimin kinda forgets the trip back home. All he remembers is that he tries to convince Namjoon is sober with doubtful results.

“Are you saying that because you want to have sex?” Namjoon raises an eyebrow, amused, as he drives. Jimin hugs himself in his coat, he’s still cold and dizzy, and looks out of the window at the snow that is slowly piling up on the streets.

“Yes?” It sounds more like a question, dammit. He shakes his head, then asks: “Should you be driving, anyway?”

“I didn’t drink as much as you,” Namjoon replies and Jimin wonders how is that possible.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Namjoon insists, probably seeing the wheels turning in his head. Jimin shrugs and lets it go.

“That means you’ll be on top, you know,” he says. He’s facing at the window, gaze following the road, but he can still see his boyfriend’s smile with the corner of his eyes.

“We will see. Drink some water.” A long finger points at the cup holder between their seats. Jimin groans but still takes the bottle of water and sips at it.

“Do I really need to be 100% sober?” he whines. “I swear you have my consent.”

“I just don’t want you to throw up on me.”

“Fair enough,” he mumbles, then closes his eyes to nap.

Sometime later, he’s woken up by a hand gently shaking him.

“I’m sober now,” are the first words babbled out of his mouth. Namjoon’s face fills his vision. “Or only slightly tipsy,” he corrects because he doesn’t like to lie and his chest still feels bubbly and his limbs light.

“Are you?” Namjoon chuckles and unfastens his seatbelt.

“Yes! I slept it off.”

The other man only hums in reply. The car is parked in the underground garage of their apartment building, so it’s not that cold when Jimin opens the door and breathes in the outside air. Or well, in the underground air. Still, he crosses the arms over the chest and clasps his hands together while he goes out of the Mercedes and waits for Namjoon.

It’s when they’re finally home that Jimin remembers what he’s waiting for him. Ok, well, it’s not like he forgot  _forgot_  about the fireplace sex, it has been in his thoughts for days, but his mind can’t realize it’s really going to happen until they’re in front of their apartment, Namjoon with an arm draped over his shoulders, a kiss pressing in his hair. His body and mind are suddenly awake and ready for it. He’s starting to feel a little spark inside and a growing, focused desire for the man, for his pine-scented cologne, for the strong width of his chest. He’s horny.  

Then Namjoon opens the door and another feeling warms him. An “aaaaw” escapes his lips.

The apartment should be dark and empty, but as Jimin walks inside he finds the Christmas tree all lighten up in white and golden sparkles. There’s a fire crackling on the wall TV, and in front of it, a luxurious white and big sheepskin rug, two glasses and a bottle of Pinot Noir.

Jimin is smiling from ear to ear as he steps inside, takes away his shoes and drops the coat on the armchair.

“You prepared all this? When I was turning on your car this morning?” he murmurs, glancing back at the other man. Namjoon is looking at him with a light in his eyes. “You’re really something else, Kim Namjoon.”

“Everything for you, babe,” he hums in his ear as he takes him in his arms. Jimin sinks in the embrace and touches the rug with a foot. So soft but…

“It’s not real, it’s synthetic,” Namjoon anticipates him as he pulls him down and they slowly, inexorably end up on lying on the white fur. Namjoon doesn’t waste any time and moves on top to kiss him. 

“You romantic sap,” Jimin exhales between one kiss and the other. “I love this. I really do.”

“Merry Christmas, Jimin.” Namjoon kisses the tip of his nose.

“Merry Christmas,” he beams and grasps at his neck so that they meet for another kiss. Namjoon’s body is all on him, pressing him against the floor, but it’s a welcome weight as they shift and move and the kiss deepens and hands sneak under layers of clothes to touch at the naked skin.

“Is this the part where you fuck me senseless?” Jimin whispers against his lips, seductive in his slow, sexy smile. Namjoon doesn’t answer, just delves in his mouth, tilting his head up to gain better access.

They make out and make out and Jimin scratches at Namjoon’s back and moans more than he should, considering they haven’t taken it under the belt already. What can he do, though? He loves the way Namjoon curls the tongue in his mouth and the easy, familiar but still burning way he kisses him. Like he’s the only thing in the world, like they have all the time they want and there’s nothing possibly more important than him. Jimin squirms under him, his hands look for purchase in the front of his button down.

“I think I want you to fuck me with your clothes on. At least the first time,” he murmurs when they stop one moment to breathe. He pats down the wrinkles he has made in Namjoon’s suit. 

“The first time?” the man pants, glossy eyes, and wet lips. Jimin can’t decide if he looks happy or overwhelmed at the thought. They are usually a one-time-all-satisfied kind of very vanilla couple. Doing it twice is way out of their usual routine.

“I had to keep my hands away from all of this all day long,” he explains, shifting so that Namjoon is lying down between his legs. He can feel his hard cock and hell if that doesn’t send shivers all down his spine. “I want my reward.”

Namjoon groans or moans, an aroused sound between the two, and lets himself fall in the space between Jimin’s shoulder and neck.

“Just ask.” Humid breath tickling him. “I’ll give everything to you.”

Jimin shakes beneath him, unable to resist at the sudden rush of desire. He pushes at his shoulders. He suddenly wants to look him in the face. 

“Undress me,” he orders, looking straight into his eyes. Namjoon licks his lips. He sits back on his knees. He peels away his layers of clothes, one at a time, dropping kisses on the exposed skin under his arms, at the sensitive spot near the armpits, then down on the stomach, on the belly button. Then his fingers work on the belt and soon graze under the jeans and the boxers. Jimin inhales harshly. Slowly slowly, almost cruelly so, Namjoon has him undressed, naked and shivering on the fur rug, cock already dripping, abandoned there on the floor like a doll. Jimin, though, is anything but a lifeless doll. He pulls Namjoon back on top of him with a strong tug, maybe a bit too strong as Namjoon practically falls on him with all his weight.

“Aw,” Jimin complains, for then laughing out of the blue.

“Sorry,” Namjoon smiles sheepishly, even if it’s not his fault. Jimin gives him a peck because he’s adorable. The warmth of another body is nice against his, but more than everything else Jimin viscerally likes to be naked in front of him and for Namjoon to be in his suit, powerful and elegant, virile, gentle and careful like only Namjoon can be. 

“Are you cold?” the man nuzzles at his temple.

“No,” Jimin breathes in him and closes his eyes. “Not at all.” He’s shivering but not because of the cold. “You look so hot in this. I swear. You’re my fucking walking wet dream.”

Namjoon bites at his neck, then licks at the skin until Jimin moans again.

“I like compliments,” the man whispers and gives another strong bite. It would almost hurt if it wasn’t so so so good. Jimin’s spine arches and grasps at Namjoon’s shoulders for dear life. 

“I’ll keep them going, then,” he struggles to say, concentration spanning, a hot burning sensation filling his lungs. “You’re so hot, you’re so hot, my god. Uhmm!” He squeezes his eyes shut as a hand finally, fucking finally, comes and holds his cock. He groans in pleasure as Namjoon caresses him up and down, up and down.

“You know… you know what I was thinking at lunch when Seokjin brought his precious panettone over?” he gasps. “I thought of that cream all over me, and you with this hot suit, licking me everywhere, making me ready and wet...” He slams a hand on his shoulder, squirming in overwhelming pleasure as Namjoon resumes his work on his neck, licking and biting a trail from the shoulder up to the ear. Together with those fingers wrapped around him, it’s the sweetest, cruelest torture. Jimin forces the next words out:

“Then you would bend me over on the table to fuck me hard. Me, completely naked. You with the suit on, only your cock out.”

“That’s hot,” Namjoon’s dark, deep voice says.

“Uhmm, yes,” Jimin has the time to moan before he’s heavily manhandled and he finds himself turned over and laying down on the rug, mouth against its fluffy texture, cock pressed between his body and the floor. He huffs as all the air escapes his lungs.

“Was it like this?” Namjoon whispers in his ear and drapes himself all over him like a giant, human blanket. Jimin can only meowl. And yes, this is what he wanted. The weight and the added heat, but most of all the hard cock against his ass.

“Oh yes...”

It’s not a table but who is he to complain?

Namjoon pushes and pushes at him with his lower body, hips rolling against him, and Jimin can almost feel the tip of his cock against his hole. Holy hell, he wants it so bad. Then he hears the sound of a zipper and he can barely breathe anymore. 

“Oh, Namjoon. Shit!” Jimin squirms and grasps the white fur in his hands in mild despair as the hot, tip of a cock nudges against his entrance. Then another sound, this time quite different, reaches him through the waves of delirious pleasure. A cool, wet liquid touches his ass and his hole and he almost jumps in his skin at the surprise. He laughs again instead, face smudged on the rug.

“Where did you hide the lube, eh?” he asks. Namjoon is a never-ending source of amusement and brilliant ideas. The man sounds amused too as he sinks with a finger in him.

“A gentleman never reveals his secrets.”

He’s also a bit breathless, but Jimin is the last one who can talk. The finger reaches him down down, deep deep and he melts, bones and muscles inexistent in his body. The only things that remain are his throbbing cock, the mouth he is gasping with and the ass around that naughty naughty finger, which is pressing and pressing over his prostate and making his head swirl and his vision spotted.

Namjoon goes at it like they have weeks, months, years ahead of them and no rush at all. Jimin is going to implode if something bigger doesn’t fuck him hard on the floor soon. He keeps the only thin thread of sanity with his fingers clutching at the fur.

He wants to die, sweat sliding down his temples, and he’s pleading for mercy - “Please, Namjoon, _please please please_ ” - when finally the man listens to his prayers and without further ado, he takes away the finger and enters him. They both moan as Namjoon stills, barely inside, but Jimin is so relaxed and ready at that point, it takes nothing and almost no pain for Namjoon to completely slide inside.  

“Are you ok?” the man asks, a hint of strain in his voice. He always does, always, since they were twenty. Now it’s nearly ten years after and they have done each other so many times Jimin can tell from the curve of Namjoon’s spine or from the lines around his mouth if the man is hurting, if he likes the pain, if he can start fucking him and if he can do it hard. For Namjoon is undoubtedly the same. He knows all the little pleasure points in his body, he could draw a map out of them, but he still asks because he’s amazing like that.

“Holy shit, _yes_ ,” Jimin moans, just to wipe away all doubts. “Please don’t stop!”

Namjoon starts fucking him slowly, hips pressing against him, taking his sweet time, almost exploring all the different feelings in his rolling that way, in moving in the other, in leaning over Jimin’s back or cradling him close. Jimin, from his side, what the hell can he do? He loves being taken from that position, the lack of control, the total submission, the way he can just take and take and take, pleasure rolling, cock pulsing helplessly. He frowns in concentration, his fingers spasms and he’s so hot his hair is sticking to his forehead. Then Namjoon folds over him and he gasps. They are so close Jimin can’t tell anymore where one ends and the other begins. 

“Uhnn,” he meowls and trashes with his legs because he’s desperate and can’t take it anymore.

“You like that,” Namjoon murmurs on his cheek and if the sensation of him dressed in his hot suit against his naked body is not filthy and sexy enough, the way he says those three words sure is.

“You know I do,” Jimin’s mouth opens and something comes out of this. He doesn’t know what, he lost all control on his brain a while ago. “You fucking tease.”

Namjoon chuckles because apparently the power and endorphins got to his head. The next push he gives inside him make Jimin sees all kind of stars.

“ _Namjooooon_ ,” he moans.

“Alright alright. Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” Namjoon soothes. He fucks him, in and out, in in and in, but Jimin wants something more.

“Can we change? I want to see you,” he says and the other man doesn’t reply, just goes out of him with a little groan and sits on the pelt. He opens his arms at Jimin in an open invitation, but Jimin is shaking all over and it’s difficult to use his limbs when he has the strength of a newborn calf. So Namjoon helps him up and positions him in his lap, finally facing each other, the imaginary fireplace cracking and burning behind his head.

Jimin could drool, and nearly does, at the view of Namjoon still dressed in his grey suit, with a red, hard and wet cock standing high, but he hugs him at the neck, braces himself and straddles him.

“Oooh”, he breathes. Namjoon moans low in his throat as he sinks inside him again.

“Slowly.” He holds him at the waist, bodily keeping him from going too fast.

So much better like this, Jimin thinks as he raises and lets himself fall, once, twice, a thousand times on Namjoon’s cock. He can see everything. The thin line of the man’s lips as he focuses on the myriad of the sensations. The eyes, shut in a frown, with the black, long eyelashes trembling over the cheeks. The shirt, unbuttoned to a half, a far cry from its past pristine self.

He’s handsome and so undone, wild and bare. Only Jimin can see him like this, only him has the privilege to. He takes his face in his hands, suddenly overwhelmed by the need of kissing, of keeping and holding him even closer, as they’re not already intimately a single thing. They kiss messily and Namjoon lets his waist to grasp at his hair, as desperate and needy as Jimin feels, bodies so close not even air comes between them. They kiss and Namjoon pushes and pushes inside him, thrusting inside him with the sole force of his abs and legs and Jimin tries to follow, tries to meet him in the middle but in the end he can only take again - exhausted and shaking - and moans inside his mouth and grasps at his face like it’s the only anchor, the only certainty in an ocean of madness and overwhelming pleasure.

Namjoon comes first, one powerful thrust whacking Jimin hard. It only takes a hand around Jimin’s neglected cock and a couple of well-given strokes and he comes too all over his bare stomach and the expensive fabric of Namjoon’s suit.    

“Ah…” he moans, spent, trembling. He lets himself fall on Namjoon’s chest and there’s barely enough air in the room to breathe. The other man is just as disheveled under him, he gasps just as much. His arms are gentle, though, as he lifts Jimin to let out his cock and he’s just as careful - mindful of every expression crossing his boyfriend’s face - as he slowly lays him down on the pelt and covers his naked body with the blanket he quickly clutches from the sofa. Jimin feels loved and cuddled, warm as Namjoon curls around him, taking him back in his arms, still breathing a bit hard, but face now bright and happy, eyes luminous. 

“Namjoon…” he calls but has really nothing to say. Or well, nothing that it’s not already clear in the way his fingers trace the lines of Namjoon’s nose, his lips, his ears, his blinking eyes like Namjoon is the most precious work of art in the world, the most precious, the most worthy. There’s nothing that feels more like love and safety than the kisses Namjoon drops on his forehead, on the temples and finally on his sore mouth that still opens, welcoming and accepting as another mouth claims it again.

Jimin lives for moments like this.

The sex with Namjoon is sometimes powerful, sometimes quiet and lazy, sometimes dizzy and frenetic. But these instants immediately after, those were they reclaim each other, when fingertips skim over familiar traits and they kiss slow and deep, those are his favorite.

They finally settle down after a while, Namjoon lined up against his side, an arm draped over his stomach. Jimin is staring at the Christmas lights reflected on the ceiling when he suddenly chuckles.

“I don’t think you can wear this suit in my presence anymore. I’ll get hard just looking at you.”

Namjoon laughs too.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to wear it again.”

Jimin breathes in and out, smiling, happy and in peace with the world. Such a beautiful way to end Christmas.

“Thank you, Namjoon,” he says. He turns to kiss the man on the nose. “I loved it.”

 

**

 

It’s hours later, after a shower and a change of clothes for Namjoon. They’re still on the white fur rug. Even if it will be in a serious need of a wash at the end of the night, its softness is really nice on their skin when a phone rings and rings and rings. It rings for so long, Jimin groans and extricates himself from Namjoon’s arms to go and take it from where they have left it on the armchair.

He barely glances at the caller id before answering.

“Why are you calling? We’re busy,” he says. They were just starting with the promised round two, after all. He pads back to Namjoon and hides under the blanket. It’s freezing cold.

On the other side of the line, a moment of pause, then a very serious tone:

“I just tried the panettone.”

Shit. A frigid shower. Jimin has totally forgotten about it. He glances at Namjoon, who has started licking at Jimin’s nipples.

“Oh,” his lame reply.

“Yes, _oh!_ ” Jin’s voice is a mix between a screech and a howl, that kind of sound Jimin thinks a police car's siren would do if it was human and sentient. That to say, Jin sounds upset. “Why didn’t you tell me it was salty as fuck?”

“Oh, well…” Jimin desperately tries desperately to think of something, but it’s difficult when there’s someone sucking and biting at your nipples. “We still liked it,” he says in the end, infusing those words with all the love he feels for his friend.

“Sure you did,” is Jin’s dry response.

“I loved it,” Jimin nods, even if no one can see him. “Namjoon too. Right?” He prods Namjoon’s head with one finger. “Namjoon, stop it there for one second. Tell him.” And he hands the phone over to him.

“The best panettone ever,” Namjoon raises his head and says with a seriousness that is half natural for him, half the result of years of practice.

A hoarse, weak laugh suddenly fills the room. When he speaks again, Jin sounds touched, and his voice a little wet, like he’s been crying.

“Seriously, you kids,” the man says in a low, happy hum. “You all are such bad liars. But I appreciate it. Go back to your fun.”

Jimin beams, Namjoon’s dimples show like another gift to unwrap.  

“Thank you. Merry Christmas,” Namjoon says, warm and gentle.

Jin’s “Merry Christmas” is the last thing they hear. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> (Seollal is Korean New Year, starting with the first day of the first lunar month.)
> 
> Have a merry belated Christmas and a happy new year!
> 
>  
> 
> [Tumblr](https://meglioseoravai.tumblr.com/)


End file.
